Way Down Under the Ground
by Broken Twisted Lullabies
Summary: The story took place a long time ago, back when both gods and men walked the earth. It was about a railroad track, about spring, and about fate. But most importantly, it was about two lovers. It was a love story, telling of a love that rivaled everything, that not even death could destroy. [Destiel]


**So I had told myself I wasn't going to post this yet without having written the whole thing, even in a rough version, but since we all know I suck at keeping my own promises...here it is!**

 **This is a Destiel fanfiction based off the musical by Anais Mitchell called Hadestown (which is freaking beautiful and amazing! I highly suggest it!). Any lyrics by her included in this will be in italics and do not belong to me. It is also based off of a famous (?) greek myth. Any who, I hope you like it, and if you did, leave a comment below!**

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I.I

A cold bitter wind moves through the town, shifting some of the frozen dirt on the streets. The townspeople were all in their houses, windows boarded up and doors locked in hopes of keeping the cold from seeping in, from stealing what little heat they managed to scavenge. But that hardly works as the cold always finds a way in, clinging to the bone and chilling fingers until they were blue, and no number of warm clothes seemed to help chase it away. The earth seemed to wither and die during the winter, and some of the people did as well. Those who were lucky were hungry, cold, tired.

Only one man walks through the streets, dressed in a dark coat. It flutters in the cold wind, making it seem like the wind is trying to pull it away, wanting for him to freeze much like the people in this town, but the man doesn't seem as bothered by it as the wind expects him to be. No, the man merely turns up his collar and continues to stroll through the empty dirt streets, whistling. The wind, unable to make the man miserable, carries his tune through the air. As he walks, the man looks around the town, taking in the dark shops that line the streets. Everything is quiet and bare, in a state of slumber along with the earth as they wait for warmth, for spring to thaw. The ground is hard and grey-brown, and the sky is filled with clouds, blocking the weak winter rays from melting it.

In the spring and summer, this town is filled with colour, with laughter and song.

Hundreds and hundreds of people come to what they dub as "The Shining Gem" of the coast, a town so full of life that it seems to draw people in, hold them close and never let them leave. That is until winter begins to creep in. They the colours begin to dull, and the song fad along with the laughter carried away by the cold winter winds. The people begin to leave, either back home, or to elsewhere, or to a different town, one much, much farther away. Either way, as the summer trickles into fall, and then winter, the town seems to go into hibernation, and he knew, wouldn't wake until spring.

He turns at the corner of the street, where the library is and makes his way down an old cobblestone street - one of the town's main streets. The cobblestone street always led you to where you wanted to go, and the man followed it, heading towards the outskirts of the town. The farther he got from the center, the more skeletal trees began to pop up, their bare branches swaying in the wind. Soon they'll have buds, but not quite yet. He continues on his way, knowing these streets like the back of his hand, having traveled down them so many times before. Still, there is no one in the streets, just him. No others are willing to face the cold.

As he continues to walk, he passes a bar, and for a moment, pauses in front of it. It's almost sad looking because he's grown so used to seeing it in the spring, red bricks covered with climbing ivy and lanterns lit up on the porch part. He's used to the bright flowers that grow around it, but now, in the winter, _The Pomegranate_ sits sad and dark, just a bare red bricked building. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a pocket watch and glances at the clock face before looking back at the building.

 _Soon,_ he thinks. _Spring will be here soon. Very soon. But not quite yet._

And so he continues walking, having not yet reached his destination.

Passing the lonesome brick building, he heads further out towards the edge of the town and the pathway he's on becomes frozen dirt once more, a couple rocks jutting out here and there. He avoids them, knowing where each and every one of them lies, and makes his way towards the train station before him. It's not huge, but on the small side, much like all the buildings in this town. However, much like _The Pomegranate_ , it's well kept, not falling apart and run down like many places he had passed. The station had a dark grey roof with a dark brick exterior, much darker than that of the bar a little ways away.

The winding dirt road leads the man up to the ticket booth. It sits empty, a crisp white sign handing on the glass window. ' _CLOSED_ ' it read in cursive red print. Beneath it stated the date in which the next train would come. Or, for the case of many who didn't quite know, it merely just stated: ' _Next Train: Fall'_. No exact date, no time. Just the season. But for folks around here, just stating the season was all they needed to know. 'Cause, you see, the train didn't run year round. At least not this train.

A couple trains would come in and out of this station to this town, but most people on those trains were coming, not going. They were coming to this little town, ready to join the six month party that happened in the spring and summer. None of them were leaving this town. If they did plan to, they didn't board _that_ train. During the spring and summer, people would exit this station in bright colours and smiles, drawn in. The sign on the ticket window? That sign was for a different train. That was the sign for a "going" train, not a "coming" train.

It was for the red-and-black steam engine that gleamed like a hot ember. It only came three times a year: right at the end of summer, the beginning of winter, and the middle of winter. (And while it did always return in the beginning of spring, no one boarded it. All those desperate to leave had already left. Or had hidden themselves away for spring.) This train would come thundering down those gleaming silver train tracks that never seemed to rust or fade, regardless of how many trains travelled down it. Still it was like polished silver in the world of poverty and decay, and folks 'round here were drawn to it in the winter, just like how they were drawn to the town and that bar at the edge of the town in the spring and summer. The silver track seemed to stretch on for miles and miles without end, and some believed it would stretch to the end of the world. But that wasn't the only whispers that surrounded that track. See, most of the whispers came not from the track, but that one train that rode upon it, like a brilliant ruby.

Quite a few folks had boarded that train at this station, but none were quite sure of where it took you. Now, the townsfolk knew the gist of where it stopped, but at the same time, their ideas were muddled and distorted as none were quite too sure, while being sure at the same time. But all the stories about it were fairly similar. They all said the train took you someplace else, and if you boarded it, never did you return. But where exactly? Now, that, that was where the folks of the dusty town were split. Some said it would bring you to Paradise, a land where you never grew hungry and were never cold. It was a land of riches and wealth and happiness, and after living up top here during the winter, such a place sounded Heavenly. They called it the promise land, and such it was.

But others, others did not. They called it the Underworld, a hellish land where the poor grew poorer and the hungry were hungrier. It was a place of work and suffering and pain and never-ending sorrows, so much worse than the land above. Where some believed it was ruled by a kind individual, others called him the Lord of the Dead.

Regardless of what it was called, it was called as Caintown, along with any other fancy names added by the folks of the town.

Every spring when they heard the sound of the red-and-black steam engine, the folks began to whisper softly, tired sunken eyes peeking out from shuttered and wooden doors. They'd wait for the train to pull into the station and wait there, hauntingly and teasingly. And, once temperatures began to drop, they'd whisper once more about the fools that would board that train, who would hope on the ruby engine and leave for good to Caintown, never to return home.

He walks past the ticket booth, and the dirt becomes dark black tiles, sleek and clean looking, and for a moment, the man gently taps his shoes against one of the pillars to clean off what little dust was on them, not wanting to dirty the floors further. The two pairs of golden wings - one pair on each shoe- fluttered at the action, as if not quite pleased. Straining his ears, the man with feathers on his feet can hear the whistle of a train in the distance, making its way towards the station.

 _Right on time_ , he mused, glancing up at the clock that hung from the station wall. As it got closer, the train grew louder, but the man didn't seem bothered, jacket fluttering from the wind as the red-and-black train pulled into the station on the gleaming silver track. The platform is filled with smoke for a moment before it clears and the man watches as one lady steps out of the front of the train.

She stands tall and elegant like, unlike what many would believe a train driver would look like. Her hair is a dark brown, stopping just past her shoulders and dressed fairly dark, the only splash of colour he spots are her heels, blood red. Blood red lips form a small smile and he returns it with an almost bitter one, giving a brief nod.

"I'm surprised, Gabriel," the lady says, making her way towards him. "Normally you aren't here on time."

The man, Gabriel, shrugs. "What can I say, Kali? I'm eager to welcome our lady home," he explains and Kali raises a brow.

"You? Eager?" She echoes. "I hardly believe that. You do this every year Gabriel. I can't imagine it'll be any more interesting this year as it was the last."

That is quite true, Gabriel will admit, but this year something will be different. At least for them. For Gabriel, it'll be the same as last year and the year before and the year before that.

"For someone like yourself, I'm a bit surprised that you sound almost skeptic," he shoots back and she laughs. "Where are you sisters?"

Kali gestures to the train behind her, and as they had heard him, two other women stepped out, materializing almost as if part of the smoke. Gabriel hadn't seen any car doors open, but knowing them, he wouldn't expect them to be any less mysterious.

Both women, like Kali, were dressed in outfits not fit for their work, but Gabriel assumed that was to throw the townsfolk off, create misguided assumptions.

After all, these three women were smart, cunning and tricky. Gabriel had watched how they weaved each word like a black widow makes a web, appearing just as harmless as any house spider. It was only once the prey fell into those webs did they strike. They spoke with honey-sweet words and smiles that shone like diamonds found in the mines below. Only fools messed with these three, as they knew of your past, your future. They swayed your present, unravelling the string before snipping it with gleaming sheers, and while Gabriel himself had grown accustomed to their unnerving abilities, others had not. Too many fell victim to them, and while tragic, never did the man blame them. It was, after all, hard to outsmart Fate.

One of the other girls offers him a smile and small wave, and Gabriel returns it, only out of politeness of course.

"Gabriel. Long time no see."

He rolled his gold eyes. "It's been a couple weeks at most, Meg," Gabriel told the second girl, who happened to be the shortest of the tree. "I expect all is well down there?" He asks, as if not knowing the answer, and Meg answers like he doesn't, even though he does. After all, he's seen how this story has played out and knows the script by heart. The rest of the actors, however, are doing this for the first time again.

"In some ways. It was much like the last. And the time before that," Meg answers almost cryptically. "Of course though, you visited at the beginning of the winter, no?" She asks and he nodded. "Had you seen the newest factory?"

At this Gabriel shook his head. He had. And at the same time, he hadn't.

"It is simply _marvelous_ ," the third sister all but purrs, forgotten up until now.

Gabriel turns his head to focus on her. "Oh really?"

Bela nods and opens her mouth to say more only to be interrupted by the opening of the train car door.

"You'll have to excuse me, ladies," Gabriel tells them, and they leave him, vanishing it seems back into the smoke from the train (though he can still feel their gaze on him).

As the door opens, a lady steps out, this one different from the three he had been speaking to prior. She was dressed in a long olive green coat, covering whatever she was wearing underneath. Besides the coat, she wore worn dark boots. Her dark wavy hair was piled neatly on top her head and as she emerged from the cloud of smoke, Gabriel noticed she held a suitcase in each hand. Both were battered, having seen better days. When one of her boots hit the dark tiles of the station, leaving the mysterious train, the whole world seemed to awaken, sensing her presence. It was almost like the world was waking from its slumber, taken during the cold harsh months. The bitter sharp wind that blew past softened, and whispers of the towns folks were carried on that sweet warm wind.

"Colette," Gabriel said, bowing with a smirk and, glancing up, he caught her trying to keep a disappointed face. It faltered, however, as the corners of her lips began to tug upwards.

"Stop bowing, Gabriel," she huffed, and if Gabriel weren't used to her, she'd have guessed she was crossed with him.

But she wasn't.

He offered a hand and she handed him one of the suitcases. She looked much happier than when he had last seen her, and it seemed that not only the earth was alive once more, but Colette as well, like a wilted flower just watered. He was sure her time in Caintown hadn't been the most pleasant, and only hoped he wouldn't hear too much complaining about it.

Yet he still asked, in a teasing tone, "How's the big man?"

She rolled her eyes. "Of course you ask that of all things," she grumbled. "Didn't you visit? I could've sworn I caught you amongst the workers once or twice."

"I _am_ the Messenger," Gabriel pointed out and the two began to exit the platform. "It's only expected I'm curious, even if I last visited a little time ago."

They leave the station, passing the ticket booth that now is missing the ' _CLOSED_ ' sign, and in it, sits Meg, filing her nails and waiting. Waiting for fools to show up and hand over what little gold they had to become richer, happier. Meg watches them pass with dark hungry eyes like a starving hound.

"Let's hope these six months are longer than the last," Colette tells him, placing down her suitcase and shedding her coat, revealing a simple knee length dress underneath.

While her voice sounds casual, Gabriel can see her dark eyes taking in the world around them, watches as her fingers itch for something, and she picks up her suitcase once more.

"I'm sure they will."

And they head towards _The Pomegranate_ , where Gabriel knows the six months of her trip will begin. Music by tonight will fill the warm spring air and the party will begin.

"Oh how I've missed this place," Colette says with a grin once they reach the doors of the bar. She places her suitcase down by the doors and pushes them open, letting light enter the dark brick building.

"I'll leave you to it. See you in six months," Gabriel calls to the woman already vanishing into her bar, placing her other suitcase by the entrance. He then turns and heads back to the train station.

All around him, doors are beginning to open and shoots appear in the dark grey earth, bright green and new, and the Messenger smiles. It seems spring has come home, and everyone is starting to wake up. Passing folks, Gabriel nods or waves, and they return the gesture with soft smiles, eyes warm. They too are happy to have spring home as it's been a long winter, too cold, too lonesome and they are hungry, cold, tired. But now they will smile and laugh and sing and fall in love and be happy. All because spring has returned.

Now, Gabriel continues to walk down the dirt path, catching the bits of green appearing, but when he nears the train station, he doesn't turn. Rather, he walks past the ticket booth and heads further, continuing down the dirt road. He walks farther and farther from the town, entering a much more deserted area. It's just Gabriel and the hum of electricity from the telephone wires up ahead of him, creating a trail around towards the side of a hill. It's a rocky, bare hill, devoid of any plant life and vegetation, and resides just a little ways past the gleaming silver track, not quite part of the town like the station is.

The telephone wires are attached to poles that seem to stretch for a few miles west, back towards the town (in another direction) and while the overall placement of them has no logical sense, Gabriel likes to reason that maybe their spot where they reside in fact do have a purpose. None of the people in the town can use them, for they aren't attached to any power source, but the closer he gets to the hill, the more he feels their power, their thrum in the air. They line an old railroad track, one rusted and unkempt, the complete opposite of its silver brother.

Gabriel follows the broken railroad track, and there at the end of it, is a young man, resting on a bended knee. The Messenger sighs, catching the instrument strapped to the man's chest.

 _And this is where our story begins…_

 _For takes place a long time ago, back when both gods and men walked the earth. It was about a railroad track, about spring, and about fate. But most importantly, this was about two lovers. It was a love story, telling of a love that rivaled everything, that not even death could destroy._

The Messenger blinks and the man is gone. He stands alone at the boarded-up entrance on the side of the hill, feet on the railroad track. In the distance, he hears the whistling of a train.

 _But it was a sad story. Because it was about someone who_ tried _..._

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 **The second chapter is about a third of the way done, and if all works out, it could hopefully be up before I leave next week. If not, it'll be up after March break and you'll get instead a cute little Sabriel one-shot.**

 **As for anyone wondering, I'm not abandoning WTTYS, the third chapter is just undergoing heavy editing and will be up soon. Also, this one, on a whole, will be like half the length of it? So buckle up kiddos and get ready! (And lemme know if you think you know who the spn characters are playing in this story!)**

 **-Twist**


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